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The Physicist and the Philosopher
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On April 6, 1922, in Paris, Albert Einstein and Henri Bergson publicly debated the nature of time. Einstein considered Bergson's theory of time to be a soft, psychological notion, irreconcilable with the quantitative realities of physics. Bergson, who gained fame as a philosopher by arguing that time should not be understood exclusively through the lens of science, criticized Einstein's theory of time for being a metaphysics grafted on to science, one that ignored the intuitive aspects of time. The Physicist and the Philosopher tells the remarkable story of how this explosive debate transformed our understanding of time and drove a rift between science and the humanities that persists today.

Jimena Canales introduces readers to the revolutionary ideas of Einstein and Bergson, describes how they dramatically collided in Paris, and traces how this clash of worldviews reverberated across the twentieth century. She shows how it provoked responses from figures such as Bertrand Russell and Martin Heidegger, and carried repercussions for American pragmatism, logical positivism, phenomenology, and quantum mechanics. Canales explains how the new technologies of the period—such as wristwatches, radio, and film—helped to shape people’s conceptions of time and further polarized the public debate. She also discusses how Bergson and Einstein, toward the end of their lives, each reflected on his rival’s legacy—Bergson during the Nazi occupation of Paris and Einstein in the context of the first hydrogen bomb explosion.

The Physicist and the Philosopher is a magisterial and revealing account that shows how scientific truth was placed on trial in a divided century marked by a new sense of time.

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Copyright © 2015 by Princeton University Press

Published by Princeton University Press, 41 William Street,

Princeton, New Jersey 08540

In the United Kingdom: Princeton University Press, 6 Oxford Street,

Woodstock, Oxfordshire OX20 1TR

Cover photographs: Albert Einstein, detail from photograph of Albert Einstein and Others, 1931. Courtesy of the Dibner Library of the History of Science and Technology, Smithsonian Institution Libraries. Henri Bergson, from The Outline of Science: A Plain Story Simply Told, by J. Arthur Thomson, 1922.

All Rights Reserved

Fourth printing, first paperback printing, 2016

Paperback ISBN: 978-0-691-17317-7

The Library of Congress has cataloged the cloth edition as follows:

Canales, Jimena, author.

    The physicist and the philosopher : Einstein, Bergson, and the debate that changed our understanding of time / Jimena Canales.

              pages cm

    Includes bibliographical references and index.

    ISBN 978-0-691-16534-9 (hardcover : alk. paper) 1. Time—Philosophy. 2. Relativity (Physics) 3. Einstein, Albert, 1879–1955. 4. Bergson, Henri, 1859–1941. 5. Physicists—United States—Biography. 6. Philosophers—France—Biography. I. Title. BD638.C326 2015 115—dc23


British Library Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available

This book has been composed in Sabon Next LT Pro

Printed on acid-free paper. ∞

Printed in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4


Preface    vii


CHAPTER 1       Untimely 3

CHAPTER 2       More Einsteinian than Einstein 16

CHAPTER 3       Science or Philosophy? 38


CHAPTER 4       The Twin Paradox 53

CHAPTER 5       Bergson’s Achilles’ Heel 62

CHAPTER 6       Worth Mentioning? 73

CHAPTER 7       Bergson Writes to Lorentz 87

CHAPTER 8       Bergson Meets Michelson 98

CHAPTER 9       The Debate Spreads 114

CHAPTER 10     Back from Paris 131

CHAPTER 11     Two Months Later 139

CHAPTER 12     Logical Positivism 153

CHAPTER 13     The Immediate Aftermath 162

CHAPTER 14     An Imaginary Dialogue 172

CHAPTER 15     Full-Blooded Time 179

CHAPTER 16     The Previous Spring 195

CHAPTER 17     The Church 203

CHAPTER 18     The End of Universal Time 218

CHAPTER 19     Quantum Mechanics 230


CHAPTER 20     Things 241

CHAPTER 21     Clocks and Wristwatches 252

CHAPTER 22     Telegraph, Telephone, and Radio 265

CHAPTER 23     Atoms and Molecules 274

CHAPTER 24     Einstein’s Films: Reversible 283

CHAPTER 25     Bergson’s Movies: Out of Control 292

CHAPTER 26     Microbes and Ghosts 303

CHAPTER 27     One New Point: Recording Devices 315


CHAPTER 28     Bergson’s Last Comments 327

CHAPTER 29     Einstein’s Last Thoughts 337

Postface    349

Acknowledgments    359

Notes    363

Bibliography    423

Index    451


I cannot get it into my head, wrote Einstein, that the last thirty years make up almost 10⁹ seconds. What makes a moment meaningful, haunting our past and our future? April 6, 1922 was a significant date for Einstein; it was the day he met Henri Bergson, one of the most respected philosophers of his era.

In a widely publicized meeting in Paris, the philosopher congratulated the physicist for having discovered a stunning theory but chastised him for having lost aspects of time that were intuitively important for us. Appalled to see a theory ignore what attracted our attention toward certain events and not to others, Einstein’s critic sketched out the principles of an alternative cosmology that would neither fall prey to the arid precision of the sciences nor wallow in poetic rhetoric. Applauded for his full-blooded notion of time, his objections would inspire generations to come.

During the face-to-face encounter between the greatest philosopher and the greatest physicist of the twentieth century, his audience learned how to become more Einsteinian than Einstein. Bergson did not contest any experimental results; he accused the physicist of grafting upon science a dangerous metaphysics. The physicist responded swiftly, enlisting allies against the man who refused to grant to science—and physics—the power to reveal the time of the universe.

The time of the universe discovered by Einstein and the time of our lives associated with Bergson spiraled down dangerously conflicting paths, splitting the century into two cultures and pitting scientists against humanists, expert knowledge against lay wisdom. With repercussions for American pragmatism, logical positivism, phenomenology, and quantum mechanics, a series of intrigues and alliances explain why longstanding rivalries between science and philosophy, physics and metaphysics, objectivity and subjectivity are still so passionately fought. By the end of their lives, Bergson reconsidered Einstein and Einstein reconsidered Bergson, but their views remained irreconcilable.

The Physicist and the Philosopher is divided into four main parts. The first opens with three chapters that take us directly to the meeting between Einstein and Bergson. Part 2 then focuses on the men. It details the various contexts where Einstein’s contributions were considered in direct relation to Bergson’s critique. We follow the debate as it reverberated from France to England, Germany, and America. In each of these places, we meet some of the major players involved in the conflict, such as the Catholic Church, and see how it affected various scientific and philosophical movements, such as American pragmatism, logical positivism, and quantum mechanics. Some of these chapters focus on key moments before and after April 6, 1922, when similar arguments to those delivered that day were advanced.

Part 3 centers on the things. It investigates why Einstein and Bergson remained so divided by zooming into particular examples that came up again and again—explicitly and repeatedly—in their discussions and those of their interlocutors. Certain things, such as the telegraph, telephone, radio, film, and automatic registering devices, played salient roles. Microscopic particles, tiny microbes, immense observers, superfast beings, animals and ghosts entered their discussions as well.

Part 4 concludes with words—the last comments they made about each other. At that time, Bergson was nearly eighty, witnessing the rise of Nazism in Germany, the occupation of Paris, and a new era of conflict and unrest. Einstein was well into his seventies. He had retired from the Institute of Advanced Studies in Princeton and was reminiscing about Bergson a few months before the Americans detonated the world’s first hydrogen bomb. In the end, we encounter a story of the rise of science in a divided century, of misunderstanding and mistrust, and of the every day things that tear us apart.





On April 6, 1922, Einstein met a man he would never forget. He was one of the most celebrated philosophers of the century, widely known for espousing a theory of time that explained what clocks did not: memories, premonitions, expectations and anticipations. Thanks to him, we now know that to act on the future one needs to start by changing the past.

Why does one thing did not always lead to the next? The meeting had been planned as a cordial and scholarly event. It was anything but that. The physicist and the philosopher clashed, each defending opposing, even irreconcilable, ways of understanding time. At the Société française de philosophie—one of the most venerable institutions in France—they confronted each other under the eyes of a select group of intellectuals. The dialogue between the greatest philosopher and the greatest physicist of the 20th century was dutifully written down. It was a script fit for the theater.¹ The meeting, and the words they uttered, would be discussed for the rest of the century.

The philosopher’s name was Henri Bergson. In the early decades of the century, his fame, prestige, and influence surpassed that of the physicist—who, in contrast, is so well known today. Bergson’s reputation was at risk after he confronted the younger man. But so was Einstein’s. The criticisms leveled against the physicist were immediately damaging. When the Nobel Prize was awarded to Einstein a few months later, it was not given for the theory that had made the physicist famous: relativity. Instead, it was given for his discovery of the law of the photoelectric effect—an area of science that hardly jolted the public’s imagination to the degree that relativity did. The reasons behind the decision to focus on work other than relativity were directly traced to what Bergson said that day in Paris.

The president of the Nobel Committee explained that although most discussion centers on his theory of relativity, it did not merit the prize. Why not? The reasons were surely varied and complex, but the culprit mentioned that evening was clear: It will be no secret that the famous philosopher Bergson in Paris has challenged this theory. Bergson had shown that relativity pertains to epistemology rather than to physics—and so it has therefore been the subject of lively debate in philosophical circles.²

The explanation that day surely reminded Einstein of the previous spring’s events in Paris. Clearly, he had provoked a controversy. These were the consequences. He had been unable to convince many thinkers of the value of his definition of time, especially when his theory was compared against that of the eminent philosopher. In his acceptance speech, Einstein remained stubborn. He delivered a lecture that was not about the photoelectric effect, for which he had been officially granted the prize, but about relativity—the work that had made him a star worldwide but which was now in question.

The invocation of Bergson’s name by the presenter of the Nobel Prize was a spectacular triumph for the philosopher who had lived his life and made an illustrious career by showing how time should not be understood exclusively through the lens of science. It had to be understood, he persistently and consistently insisted, philosophically. But what exactly did he mean by that? As it turns out, Bergson’s philosophy was as controversial as Einstein’s physics.

What led these two brilliant individuals to adopt opposite positions on nearly all the pertinent issues of their era? What caused a century to end as divided as the twentieth did? Why did two of the greatest minds of modern times disagree so starkly, dividing intellectual communities for years to come?


On that truly historic day when the two met, Bergson was unwillingly dragged into a discussion he had explicitly intended to avoid.³ The philosopher was by then much more senior than Einstein. He spoke for about half an hour. He had been prodded by an impertinent colleague, who had been in turn pressured to speak by the event organizer. We are more Einsteinian than you, Monsieur Einstein, he said.⁴ His objections would be heard far and wide. Bergson was supposed by all of us to be dead, explained the writer and artist Wyndham Lewis, but Relativity, oddly enough at first sight, has resuscitated him.

The physicist responded in less than a minute—including in his answer one damning and frequently cited sentence: "Il n’y a donc pas un temps des philosophes."⁶ Einstein’s reply—stating that the time of the philosophers did not exist—was incendiary.

Einstein had traveled to the City of Lights from Berlin. When his train arrived at the Gare du Nord, photographers, reporters, filmmakers, officials and diplomats awaited him in imposing numbers. The scientific celebrity decided to descend by the other side of the tracks, escaping surreptitiously, like a robber. He made his way through dangerous cables and warning signs before arriving at a tiny door that led to the boulevard de la Chapelle, which, in the afternoon, was as empty as the Sahara Desert. Safe from the cameras and the crowds, Einstein laughed like a child.

The physicist’s visit was a sensation that the intellectual snobbery of the capital could not pass up.⁸ Intellectuals were not the only ones excited by his presence. It literally set off crowds in a craze, quickly enthralling unsuspecting Parisians.⁹ An observer described an unfettered frenzy by the public at large around certain of Einstein’s commentators.¹⁰ Einstein’s trip reanimated and brought to the stage of a paroxysm the curiosity of the public for the scientist and his work.¹¹

What Einstein said next that evening was even more controversial: There remains only a psychological time that differs from the physicist’s. At that very moment, Einstein laid down the gauntlet by considering as valid only two ways of understanding time: physical and psychological. These two ways of examining time, although scandalous in the particular context that Einstein uttered them, had a long history. With Einstein, they would have an even longer one—becoming two dominant prisms inflecting most investigations into the nature of time during the twentieth century.

The simple, dualistic perspective on time advocated by Einstein appalled Bergson. The philosopher responded by writing a whole book dedicated to confronting Einstein. His theory is a metaphysics grafted upon science, it is not science, he wrote.¹²

Einstein fought back with all his energy, strength, and resources. In the years that followed, Bergson was largely perceived to have lost the debate against the younger physicist. The scientist’s views on time came to dominate most learned discussions on the topic, keeping in abeyance not only Bergson’s but many other artistic and literary approaches, by relegating them to a position of secondary, auxiliary importance. For many, Bergson’s defeat represented a victory of rationality against intuition.¹³ It marked a moment when intellectuals were no longer able to keep up with revolutions in science due to its increasing complexity. For that reason, they should stay out of it. Science and its consequences should be left to those who arguably knew something about it—the scientists themselves.¹⁴ Thus began the story of the setback, after a period of unprecedented success, of Bergson’s philosophy of absolute time—unquestionably under the impact of relativity.¹⁵ Most important, then began the period when the relevance of philosophy declined in the face of the rising influence of science.

Biographers who write about Einstein’s life and work rarely mention Bergson. One exception, a book written by a colleague, paints a picture of eventual rapprochement between the two men.¹⁶ But other evidence shows just how divisive their encounter was. A few years before their deaths, Bergson wrote about Einstein (1937), and Einstein mentioned Bergson (1953) one last time. They underlined—once again—just how wrong the perspective of the other remained. While the debate was for the most part removed from Einstein’s legacy, it was periodically brought up by many of Bergson’s followers.¹⁷ The simple act of reviving the discussion that took place that day in April 1922 was not a matter that could be taken lightly. Not only is the incident itself divisive—its relevance for history is still contested.

The two men dominated most discussions about time during the first half of the twentieth century. Thanks to Einstein, time had been finally deposed from its high seat, brought down from the lofty peak of philosophy to the practical down-to-earth territory of physics. He had shown that our belief in the objective meaning of simultaneity as well as that of absolute time had to be forever discarded after he had successfully banished this dogma from our minds.¹⁸ The physicist had shown that space by itself, and time by itself were two concepts doomed to fade away into mere shadows.¹⁹

Bergson, in contrast, claimed that there was more to Time than scientists had ever wagered—and he meant scientists of all stripes, ranging from Darwinian evolutionists to astronomers and physicists. To explain those aspects of Time that were most important and that scientists constantly disregarded, Bergson would frequently capitalize the term. He associated it with élan vital, a concept translated worldwide as vital impulse. This impulse, he argued, was interwoven throughout the universe giving life an unstoppable impulse and surge, ever productive of new unexpected creations, and imperfectly grasped by science. Although science could only deal with it imperfectly, it was the backbone of artistic and creative work. Bergson’s influence on literature was seen as spreading to Gertrude Stein, T. S. Elliot, Virginia Woolf, William Faulkner, and numerous others who introduced breaks, twists, and turns in narratives where the future appeared before the past and the past after the future.²⁰

Einstein’s and Bergson’s contributions appeared to their contemporaries forcefully at odds, representing two competing strands of modern times. Vitalism was contrasted against mechanization, creation against ratiocination, and personality against uniformity. During these years, Bergson’s philosophy was often placed next to the first in these pairs of terms; Einstein’s work frequently appeared alongside the second.²¹ Bergson was associated with metaphysics, antirationalism, and vitalism, the idea that life permeates everything. Einstein with their opposites: with physics, rationality, and the idea that the universe (and our knowledge of it) could stand just as well without us. Each man represented one side of salient, irreconcilable dichotomies that characterized modernity.

This period consolidated a world largely split into science and the rest. What is unique about the appearance of these divisions and subsequent incarnations is that after the Einstein and Bergson encounter, science frequently appeared firmly on one side of the dichotomy. Other areas of culture appeared on the other side—including philosophy, politics, and art.

The stature of both men was envied by many of their contemporaries. Sigmund Freud, the founder of psychoanalysis, once described himself as having little claim to be named beside Bergson and Einstein as one of the intellectual sovereigns of his era.²² The confrontation between them was a controversy that presently separates the two most renowned men of our times.²³ Although Einstein’s brain was paraded in formaldehyde as the perfect embodiment of the organ of genius, the locks of Bergson’s hair kept at his barbershop were treated as holy relics.²⁴

Early in this century, two very prominent, and originally independent, lines of thought collided, explained a physicist and historian who put his career on the line by siding with Bergson. On the one hand … was the system of Bergson. … On the other hand, the physical theory of relativity, which … dominated scientific thought, he continued. It was inevitable that one or the other of these views should give way, he concluded.²⁵ More recently, the debate between them continues to be widely perceived as inevitable. Bergson’s confrontation with Einstein was inevitable, wrote the famous philosopher Gilles Deleuze, more than half a century after their meeting.²⁶ And thus we find these two men playing key roles in the salient divisions of modern times. Can we move beyond them?

Bergson’s defeat was a decisive turning point for him personally, when the fame, wisdom, and caution of the elder was tested by the impetuous braggadocio of the younger, but it was also a key moment marking the rise of the authority of science vis-à-vis other forms of knowledge. In the years that followed their meeting, the philosopher and physicist became engaged in numerous other disputes that would touch on just about everything. Some of their differences were highly abstract—about the nature of time, the role of philosophy, and the reach and power of science. Others were more concrete, such as the role of the government, the place of religion in modern societies, and the fate of the League of Nations. But almost anywhere that we look—from vegetarianism to war, from race to faith—we find that the two men took pretty much opposite stands on almost all pertinent issues of their time.

There are many reasons why we know much about Einstein and little about Bergson. Most of them have to do with how the debate intensified after their first meeting; the debate took off like wild fire.²⁷ The tension between the two men escalated after Bergson published a no-holds-barred book devoted to relativity theory. The controversial tome, designed to be carefully followed with pencil or pen in hand, appeared later that year. Duration and Simultaneity inspired hundreds of responses by prominent thinkers centrally engaged with the disagreement between the physicist and the philosopher. The book was as contentious as it was successful. Nearly a decade after its publication, a writer and eager reader of the work of both men still asked: Would the book by the most brilliant of the contemporary philosophers clarify the ideas of the most brilliant of the scientists?²⁸ In 1936, less than a decade and a half after it first appeared, a successful biologist warned prospective buyers that they might have difficulty in finding a copy of Duration and Simultaneity as the last edition is exhausted.²⁹

Einstein is well known and respected today; Bergson is much less. Yet at the time of their meeting the situation was quite the opposite. Bergson was an established figure as a public intellectual and philosopher, hobnobbing in the mornings with heads of state, filling lecture rooms in the afternoon, and providing bedtime reading for many at night; Einstein had only recently become a rising star in the eyes of the public and was still finding his voice outside of scientific spheres.

Bergson and Einstein met a few more times and exchanged a couple of letters. Einstein sent a friendly postcard from Rio de Janeiro to Bergson after their problematic encounter in Paris.³⁰ They never debated publically again. Instead, they propagated their respective positions in publications and letters to others. Some of these letters eventually reached the public; others remained in private hands until they found their way to archives. Through them, we can trace clear instances of highly effective backbiting. A number of prominent disciples took it upon themselves to end the debate in favor of the man they supported. The debate grew to engulf the public at large. Few remained neutral.

After their first encounter, Einstein insisted that the philosopher simply did not understand the physics of relativity—an accusation with which most of Einstein’s defenders agreed and which Bergson forcefully resisted. In light of these accusations, Bergson revised his argument in three separate appendices to Duration and Simultaneity that he included in a second edition and in a separate paper published in a specialized journal. Bergson’s response has frequently been ignored. By taking it in consideration, we can see that their dispute hinged on a lot more than mere technical disagreements pertaining to factual details of relativity theory. Bergson never acknowledged defeat. According to him, it was Einstein and his interlocutors who did not understand him.

In one sense this book is about one day, but in another it is much broader. Before the two men actually met, it seemed nearly impossible to foresee such a strong potential for conflict between them, their science, and their philosophies. We find some evidence of animosity on Einstein’s part in 1914, when in a letter to a friend he described Bergson’s philosophy as flaccid and not even worth reading for the purpose of improving his command of the French language.³¹ For Bergson, evidence reveals the contrary: an initial fascination with Einstein and his theory. A friend of his recalled how, upon hearing about it, the philosopher plunged himself into a careful study of its mathematics. At that time, Bergson thought he would publish only a note on it, with an overall positive assessment. It would show the agreement between relativity and my views on space and spatial time, he confided to a friend. But these conciliatory intentions soon waned. It became clear that Bergson’s concept of duration—a label used by the philosopher to describe aspects of time that could never be grasped quantitatively—had to be set apart.³²

At the 1921 Oxford Congress of Philosophy, papers on Bergsonian philosophy and Einsteinian physics were delivered side-by-side with no apparent problems. What happened on that sixth of April that changed the status quo?

This book is about two men and one day. But it is also about what these two men have come to represent. Most important, it is about how these men and their respective advocates came to be who they were. Specific events and interactions shaped them as much as they, in turn, shaped the world around them. After arguing for nearly a century in terms of for or against, we can now search for a third route: to understand both of their positions, their emergence, and their context.


We know Einstein by reputation—a man frequently compared to Newton and to Columbus. By publishing what is arguably the most famous scientific paper in history, he created a revolution comparable to that of Copernicus.³³ In 1919 an eclipse expedition brought international fame to the controversial scientist. Partly because of his vocal pacifist and antinationalist stance, Einstein was one German-born scientist supported by many members of war-torn countries and admired by those who shunned the dangerous rising tide of German nationalism. As one scientist of the period put it, when talking about time, one needed to talk about Einstein. Otherwise it would be like not talking about the sun when discussing daylight.³⁴ Since then, Einstein was crowned as the man whose work took sensorial perception and analytical principles as sources of knowledge, nothing more and nothing less.³⁵ The theory of relativity broke with classical physics in three main respects: first, it redefined concepts of time and space by claiming that they were no longer universal; second, it showed that time and space were completely related; and third, the theory did away with the concept of the ether, a substance that allegedly filled empty space and that scientists hoped would provide a stable background to both the universe and their theories of classical mechanics.

In combination, these three insights were related to a startlingly new effect, time dilation, which profoundly shocked scientists and the general public. In colloquial terms, scientists often described it by saying that time slowed down at fast velocities and, even more dramatically, that it completely stopped at infinite ones. If two clocks were set at the same time with respect to each other, and if one of them separated from the other traveling at a constant speed, they would mark different times, depending on their respective velocities. Although observers traveling with the clocks would be unable to notice any changes in their own system, one of them was slow in comparison to the other. Researchers calculated a striking difference between time1 as measured by a stationary clock when compared to time2 as measured by a clock in motion. Which of these referred to time? According to Einstein, both—that is, all frames of references should be treated as equal. Both quantities referred equally to time. Had Einstein found a way to stop time?

Bergson was not convinced. Claiming that the sensational conclusions of the physicist’s theory were not so unlike the fantastical searches for the fountain of youth, he concluded: We shall have to find another way of not aging.³⁶

Relativity scientists argued that our common conception of simultaneity needed to be upgraded: two events that seemed to occur simultaneously according to one observer were not necessarily simultaneous for another one. This effect was connected to other aspects of the theory: that the speed of light (in vacuo and in the absence of a gravitational field) was constant.³⁷ The velocity of most physical objects could successively be increased by piggy-backing on other fast-moving objects. For example, a train traveling at a certain speed could be made to travel faster if placed on top of another fast train. While the first train could be traveling at, say, 50 mph, the one on top would go at 100 mph, the next one at 150 mph, and so on. Not so with light waves. The speed of light, in Einstein’s account of special relativity, was not only constant; it was an unsurpassable velocity. This simple fact led scientists not only to abandon the concept of absolute simultaneity, it also led them to a host of additional paradoxical effects, including time dilation.

As with Einstein, we also know Bergson mostly by reputation.³⁸ Bergson was compared to Socrates, Copernicus, Kant, Simon Bolívar, and even Don Juan.³⁹ The philosopher John Dewey, known as one of the main representatives of American pragmatism, forcefully claimed that no philosophic problem will ever exhibit just the same face and aspect that it presented before Professor Bergson.⁴⁰ William James, the Harvard professor and famed psychologist, described Bergson’s Creative Evolution (1907) as a true miracle, marking the beginning of a new era.⁴¹ For James, Matter and Memory (1896) created a sort of Copernican revolution as much as Berkeley’s ‘Principles’ or Kant’s Critique did.⁴² The philosopher Jean Wahl once said that if one had to name the four great philosophers one could say: Socrates, Plato—taking them together—Descartes, Kant and Bergson.⁴³ The philosopher and historian of philosophy Étienne Gilson categorically claimed that the first third of the twentieth century was the age of Bergson.⁴⁴ He was simultaneously considered the greatest thinker in the world and the most dangerous man in the world.⁴⁵ Students described him as an enchanter credited with saving France and the liberty of Europe.⁴⁶ Many of his followers embarked on mystical pilgrimages to his summer home in Saint-Cergue, Switzerland.⁴⁷ Lord Balfour followed his work carefully, and when a past prime minister of England engages in a controversy with the principal philosophical thinker of the era, everyone should listen.⁴⁸ Theodore Roosevelt, the president of the United States, was one of the many who listened carefully to what Bergson had to say, writing an article directly addressing Bergson’s philosophy.⁴⁹ Yet others considered his work as marking the passing of winter and the coming of a new spring for Western civilization.⁵⁰

Bergson was widely viewed as the main man leading the insurgence against reason that many diagnosed as a contemporary disease of the interwar period. As a result, he was accused of denigrating the physical sciences to at best a merely practical device for manipulating dead things.⁵¹ The historian and theorist Isaiah Berlin associated him with the abandonment of rigorous critical standards and the substitution in their place of casual emotional responses.⁵² The mathematician and philosopher Bertrand Russell charged him with anti-intellectualism, a dangerous disease affecting ants, bees and Bergson in which intuition ruled over reason.⁵³ Bergson’s Introduction to Metaphysics was "the Discourse on Method for modern anti-rationalism.⁵⁴ He was reputed to be spiritualist, antiscience, and the leading representative of the modern occult revival, the revolt against mechanism, and the new spiritualism."⁵⁵ Believed to have been influenced by religious beliefs, and frequently associated with the Catholic Church, Bergson was Jewish. Rumors circulated that he had converted to Catholicism. Were they true? Yet his work was also placed on the Catholic Church’s Index of Prohibited Books, forbidding believers from reading it and disseminating it.⁵⁶

At the Lycée Condorcet, Bergson obtained prizes in English, Latin, Greek, and philosophy. He was acclaimed for his mathematical work, receiving a national prize and publishing in the Annales de mathématiques. He published two theses, one a highly specialized dissertation on Aristotelian philosophy and another, titled Time and Free Will, which would go through countless editions. In 1898 he became a professor at the École Normale; in 1900, he moved to the prestigious Collège de France.

His fifth book, Creative Evolution (1907), brought him universal fame. His lectures were so crowded with tout Paris, that his students could not find seats. It was rumored that socialites sent their servants ahead of time to reserve them, and in illustrations of the time, we see people climbing windows to get a glimpse of the celebrated philosopher.⁵⁷ During his reception at the Académie française he received so many flowers and applauses that underneath the clamor he was heard protesting But I am not a ballerina! Even the Paris Opera, it was evident, was not spacious enough for him.⁵⁸ Two thousand students turned up for a lecture at New York’s City College (1913).⁵⁹

This universal fame followed him until 1922, when he published Duration and Simultaneity, a book that he described as a confrontation against Einstein’s theory. It unabashedly intended to out-Einstein Einstein by interpreting all known scientific facts associated with relativity theory in a new way. It was in press during their meeting and appeared later that year. It did not produce the author’s hoped-for effect.

The Jew is told: ‘You’re not at the level of the Arab because at least you are white, and you have Bergson and Einstein, explained Frantz Fanon, who fought for decolonization and for Algeria’s independence from France. For him, the two men exemplified the racial tensions of the post–World War II era.⁶⁰ The French allegedly used them to foster the so-called dependency complex of the colonized to prove the superiority of whites against blacks, and to play Jews and Arabs against each other. Bergson and Einstein were frequently cited together as icons of modernity and of cultural and literary modernism. Their fame reached across the world.⁶¹

The confrontation between the two intellects was particularly shocking because those involved believed that agreement in scholarly matters, especially in scientific ones, should be reached. We were all accustomed to endless discussion without resolution over the best structure to give a government, or over the most perfect form of art, or over a certain problem of metaphysics or ethics, but this should not happen in a case "dealing only with logical deductions based on facts that none of the adversaries even dream of contesting."⁶² This was a disconcerting thing, and perhaps, without precedent.⁶³ There needed to be an end to something that could only be explained as a colossal misunderstanding or a monstrous mistake. Something urgent had to happen in order to have everyone agree.⁶⁴ The arguments advanced had the disconcerting flavor of a double monologue that seemed to resemble those of the tower of Babel filled with contradictory discussions where the affirmations are as categorical on one side as they are on the other.⁶⁵ Bergson and the relativists might both be wrong but cannot be right, explained a physicist who dedicated most of his adult life to figuring out who should be the winner.⁶⁶ By the end of the twentieth century, the debate was still a head-on clash of rival conceptions.⁶⁷

To this day one can safely refer to it as a "locus classicus and conclude that The historical debate between Bergson and Einstein on the theory of relativity is … a classic."⁶⁸ In the words of the poet Paul Valéry, their confrontation was the singular "grande affaire of the twentieth century.⁶⁹ Did their debate end a golden age before the divorce between the two cultures?⁷⁰ It opened up a veritable can of worms" that lasted for the next hundred years.⁷¹

Einstein, on that day, had good reasons to be worried about how the philosopher’s attack would affect him. He had promised to give the money from the Nobel Prize, which he was expecting to get, as alimony to his ex-wife. But before the prize was awarded that same year, some wondered if Bergson’s critique had thrown the whole relativity doctrine into the lap of metaphysics, from which … Einstein was determined to rescue it.⁷² Others started to consider Einstein’s theory as simply irrelevant for everyday human concerns. Alain, a widely read author who would become an important antifascist writer, claimed that, from an algebraic point of view all [of Einstein’s work] is correct; from a human point of view all is puerile.⁷³

The years that followed their encounter in Paris can be compared to those of the religious wars—with one major difference: instead of debating about how to read the Bible, thinkers across a wide variety of disciplines debated about how to read the complex unfolding of nature through time.


More Einsteinian than Einstein

When Albert Einstein left for Paris in March 1922, he knew that he would be skating on thin ice, wrote one biographer.¹ Einstein’s visit was highly symbolic for the two countries.² This was a period of extreme tension between France and Germany, which were still recoiling from the Great War (1914–1918) and under the spell of lingering resentments and violent accusations. A German ultranationalist opponent of the physicist who commented on the visit complained how this was simply not the proper time for Einstein to go:

Since the end of the war the French have suppressed the German people in the most brutal manner. They have torn away piece after piece of their body, have engaged in one act of extortions after another, they have placed colored troops to watch over the Rhineland, and they have made insufferable demands on the German people through the reparation commission. And just at this very time Mr. Einstein travels to Paris to deliver lectures.³

The scientist Max Planck described Einstein’s decision to travel there as heroic yet likely to cause even more problems. Despite the advantages that it presents, it will bring to you a thousand enmities written and not written, he explained to Einstein.⁴ Others had exactly the opposite view, believing that Einstein’s visit could help relations among nations, heralding the victory of the Archangel over the Demon of the Abyss.

Einstein had protested the Great War; Bergson had patriotically defended the actions of his country. Einstein had turned forty-three the previous month; Bergson was sixty-two.

After intense coverage of Einstein’s work in newspapers and learned circles, here was the first opportunity to discuss relativity in the presence of the monster himself.⁶ Many hoped that in an intimate question-and-answer forum Einstein would reveal more than through his written work, his intimate principles and true driving ideas.⁷ They hoped they could obtain clarifications from the mouth of the author himself on the most controversial aspects of his theory.⁸ That Einstein would meet Bergson only made his visit even more exciting, leading to "a debate that, in its eternal interest, infinitely surpasses the mediocre political imbecility [politico-nigologiques] and the lowly pecuniary controversies of the common fare in which we are accustomed to partake."⁹

After receiving three invitations, Einstein declined all of them.¹⁰ He had, however, second thoughts about the last one, coming from a friend of his at the Collège de France. These doubts intensified after a conversation with the foreign minister, Walther Rathenau, who worked to improve relations between these two countries before he was brutally murdered. Rathenau urged him to attend. Shortly thereafter Einstein withdrew his previous declination, notified the Prussian Academy of Sciences, and started preparing his trip.¹¹

Einstein was invited to France with the express purpose that his visit would serve to restore relations between German and French scholars. In his travel notification to the Prussian Academy of Sciences, he quoted the letter of invitation from Paul Langevin: The interests of science demand that relations between German scientists and us be reestablished. Langevin, future host, close colleague, and old friend, firmly believed that Einstein will contribute to this better than anyone else.¹²

Einstein had become a veritable celebrity a few years before the encounter in Paris, when he was catapulted to fame in 1919, at the end of the war.¹³ His name appeared on the cover of numerous newspapers around the world that charged him with revolutionizing—not only physics—but everyday notions of time and space. The headline of the Times on November 7 read Revolution in Science/New Theory of the Universe/Newtonian Ideas Overthrown, and three days later the New York Times announced The Lights of the Heavens Askew.¹⁴ Newspapers recounted how observations of an eclipse expedition had proved that traditional concepts of time and space needed to be completely overhauled. A recent historian argued that the modern world began on 29 May 1919 when photographs of a solar eclipse confirmed the truth of a new theory of the universe.¹⁵ By the fall of 1920, Einstein saw how presently every coachman and waiter is debating whether the theory of relativity is correct.¹⁶ In the first six years after the eclipse more than six hundred books and articles on relativity were published.¹⁷

Before becoming a worldwide star, Einstein worked hard to expand the relevance of his theory of relativity beyond the community of physicists. In 1917 he published a gemeinverständlich version of both the special and general theory. His newfound fame soon dwarfed his own popularization attempts. Popular and specialized expositions of relativity proliferated almost automatically after this date. His Über die spezielle und die allgemeine Relativitätstheorie (gemeinverständlich) was translated into English, French, Spanish, and Italian. Then came Einstein’s famous Four Lectures on Relativity, presented at Princeton University in 1921.

But, at least in philosophical circles, Bergson had good reasons to feel stronger than his rival. During their meeting, the scientist was grilled about almost everything, from the mathematical details of his theory to its broader philosophical implications.¹⁸ The forum was challenging for him linguistically, since he was competent in French, but not fluent. The language will certainly cause me some trouble, he explained to Langevin, who had generously invited him.¹⁹ Before it all started, Einstein strategized to minimize the disturbing effects that could arise from the deficiencies in expressing himself in French. "I have to speak in Paris at the Collège de France in—I shudder to say—French, he confessed.²⁰ If only my beak were better polished in French, he lamented.²¹ That language, after all, had always been Einstein’s least favorite subject in school. He consistently obtained his worst grades in it, leading many since then to believe that he had been a bad student.²² A listener during the meeting remarked how Einstein pronounced relativity with two accents and mispronounced equations. It actually sounded as if he said rélativité and ékations."²³ Bergson, in contrast, was a noted and experienced orator who knew how to speak impeccable French and English.

The event organizer at the Société française de philosophie, Xavier Léon, introduced the scientist as the genial author of relativity theory, remarking how the date of April 6 will make history in the annals of our society.²⁴ Some of the most important French intellectuals of the time were in the room. Langevin spoke first after the introduction.

Langevin had been one of Einstein’s first supporters in France. He presented the scientist and his theory in a way that was already familiar to many, including Einstein. But less familiar to him were some of the philosophers in attendance, such as Léon Brunschvicg, who asked a difficult question about the relation of Einstein’s theory to a Kantian conception of science. While Brunschvicg wanted clarification on highly technical aspects of Kant’s philosophy in relation to relativity, the physicist’s answer was nothing but dismissive. Each philosopher had his own Kant, he told Brunschvicg, so he could not respond because he "did not know how you interpret Kant."²⁵

Others who initially did not want to speak were prodded by the organizer who wanted—and was expecting—a lively meeting. Édouard Le Roy, a student of Bergson, made this clear: "Our friend Xavier Léon really [à toute force] wants me to speak. Faced with his polite insistence, I cannot refuse. But, deep down, I have nothing to say. Nonetheless in the two words" uttered by Le Roy, Bergson was dragged into the discussion.

Le Roy believed that the point of view of philosophers and physicists were both equally legitimate but were—in the end—different: I believe in particular that the problem of time is not the same for Einstein and Bergson. Le Roy concluded his commentary by saying that since Bergson was among us it would be more appropriate for Bergson himself to take the floor.²⁶

After having sat silently during Einstein’s Collège de France lecture the previous day, Bergson now responded begrudgingly, insisting that he had come here to listen. When he first spoke, he lavished praise on the foreign physicist. The last thing he intended to do was to engage Einstein in a debate. With regard to Einstein’s theory Bergson had no objections: I do not raise any objections against your theory of simultaneity, any more than I do so against the theory of relativity in general.²⁷ What Bergson wanted to say was that all did not end with relativity. He was clear: All that I want to establish is simply this: once we admit the theory of relativity as a physical theory, all is not finished.²⁸ Philosophy, he modestly argued, still had a place.

Einstein disagreed with Bergson and replied with a provocative phrase: The time of the philosophers does not exist. Einstein was facing an audience mainly composed of philosophers and hosted by philosophers. By and large, philosophers had even shown themselves to be one of the most open and inviting communities in France toward the German-born physicist. Was Einstein unappreciative of their good will?

What did Einstein intend by uttering that phrase? Einstein fought against giving philosophy (and by inference Bergson) a predominant role in matters of time. His objections were based on his views about the role of philosophy and philosophers in society—views that differed from Bergson’s.


During his meeting with Bergson, Einstein defended his definition of time as having a clear objective meaning in contrast to other definitions. There are objective events that are independent of individuals, he insisted that day, implying that his notion of time was one of them.²⁹ His theory was not just a fruitful hypothesis or one convenient explanation that could be chosen out of many. "One can always choose the representation one wants if one believes that it is more comfortable to do so than another one for the task at hand, but that does not have any objective sense, he insisted.³⁰ The astronomer Charles Nordmann, who followed Einstein’s visit closely, explained the physicist’s intentions. If there is in fact an opinion against which Einstein fought vigorously and notably, one can remember, right after the debates at the Collège de France, it is one that gave his theory only a formal or mathematical importance," he recounted.³¹

All went brilliantly well, wrote Einstein to his wife that evening. Einstein eagerly prepared his trip back home, holding a not-empty leather bag filled with money given to him by the Baron de Rothschild. Back in Germany, inflation was out of control. After the last discussion ended, he felt good about his performance and proud to have served his country’s interest. If the Germans only knew what services I performed for them here by this visit, they would clearly thank him, he told her. But they are too small-minded to grasp it, he concluded.³²

The debate between the two men escalated quickly. After their first meeting, Bergson and Einstein were scheduled to meet again in a few months, this time, for an entirely different purpose. Bergson was president of the International Committee on Intellectual Cooperation, one of the most prestigious branches of the League of Nations. Einstein was one of its members. While the participation of Bergson and Einstein augmented the prestige of the League of Nations, their heated encounter in Paris only intensified doubts about the viability of international collaborations—even those founded for the express purpose of reducing conflict in Europe. Would conflict be reduced, or would it escalate? In 1922, it was hard to foresee what would happen.

By the beginning of the fall, Duration and Simultaneity, the contentious book that had been in press during the Paris meeting, appeared in print. Bergson expressed the duty to defend philosophy from the encroachment of science. These were strong words: "The idea that science and philosophy are different disciplines meant to complement each other … arouses the desire and also imposes on us the duty to proceed to a confrontation."³³ Bergson chastised relativity theory for stopping to be a physics to become a philosophy and a deeply flawed one at that.³⁴

Although Einstein’s simple statement that day—the time of the philosopher does not exist—served as a detonator, many additional factors intensified the conflict between the two men and the views they represented. Bergson and Einstein belonged to different communities with different cultural and intellectual heritages.

Einstein obsessively searched for unity in the universe, believing that science could reveal its immutable laws and describe them in the simplest possible way.³⁵ Bergson, in contrast, claimed that the ultimate mark of the universe was just the opposite: never-ending change. Philosophies that did not stress the fluctuating, contingent, and unpredictable nature of the universe—as well as the essential place of human consciousness in it and its central role in our knowledge of it—were, according to him, retrograde and unlearned. While Einstein searched for consistency and simplicity, Bergson focused on inconsistencies and complexities.

The German scientist was deeply steeped in an elite Kultur tradition, considering himself a member of a supratemporal community of exceptional minds that existed in a universe parallel to that of the philistine masses.³⁶ Bergson also belonged to a cultural elite, but a very different one from Einstein’s. He saw himself as the continuator of a school of French, post-Cartesian philosophy. Bergson studied and continued the work of his teacher Émile Boutroux, of Boutroux’s teacher Jules Lachelier, and of the man who inspired all of them equally, Félix Ravaisson.³⁷ Einstein focused on an entirely different tradition that revolved largely around the German classics: Lessing, Kant, Schiller, and Goethe. While Einstein’s sources were widely read within and outside of Germany, Bergson’s, in contrast, were studied by a much smaller circle of philosophy specialists.

Einstein’s leftist politics and his pacifism during the Great War contrasted starkly with Bergson’s vocal nationalism during that same period. Einstein’s personal understanding of himself as a marginalized Jewish outsider clashed with Bergson’s comfort as an assimilated French Jew. Bergson was not only a famous professor in one of France’s most elite institutions, he also belonged to a small inner circle of well-placed intellectuals and politicians. Even during the virulently anti-Semitic Vichy period (1940–1944), the philosopher was well looked after.³⁸

Remarkably, throughout my long existence, I have not collaborated with anyone but Jews, explained Einstein to his close friend Besso in 1937, already exiled in Princeton and decades after he had completed his most brilliant work.³⁹ Einstein’s personal identity was defined against that of the dominantly Christian European bourgeoisie. After the horrors of the Great War, a conflict that he forcefully opposed, he came to think that our kinfolk really are more sympathetic (less brutal) than these horrid Europeans.⁴⁰ In contrast, when Bergson prohibited the publication after his death of his correspondence and notes (and even their availability to the public through libraries) his reasons were clear: he had to protect himself against his mortal enemies (among which there are all types of Jews, my coreligionists).⁴¹ While a veritable Einstein industry continues to glorify the physicist, promoting and controlling his image through well-funded institutions, Bergson’s followers are few and far between.

The physicist’s bohemian lifestyle contrasted with Bergson’s monastic asceticism. Einstein’s rural south German Swabian origins on the margins of mainstream bourgeois culture and the precarious boom-or-bust business initiatives of his father fostered in the young scientist a contradictory disdain for financial comfort as well as a profound longing for it. His social status clashed with Bergson’s, who had an influential Polish banker as a paternal grandfather and a doctor from Yorkshire as a maternal one. The physicist’s messy, peripatetic personal life remained at odds with Bergson’s privileged stability.

Bergson was born in Paris. As a child he lived with his family for a few years in London and in Geneva, before returning to France. When his family moved back to England, he stayed behind in a boardinghouse so that he could continue his studies. From that moment on, he remained in France, visiting his parents abroad during the summers. During his twenties, he spent a few years teaching in the provinces. After that, he lived in Paris for the rest of his life.

The physicist, in turn, lived and spent time in many different places in Germany, Switzerland, Italy, and Eastern Europe as an adult and as a child. At age sixteen, he lived by himself when his parents moved to Italy for a business opportunity that proved disastrous. Distinctly handsome, he broke hearts as a teenager, had a daughter out of wedlock (who was most probably given away), was accused of adultery by his first wife, went through a prolonged legal battle over divorce and alimony, and collected more than a few amorous peccadilloes along the way. Einstein came close to bankruptcy a number of times, finding it difficult to come up with money to support two families. During his Parisian sojourn he was able to save one piece of fine soap and a tube of toothpaste generously giving it to his wife back home.⁴² Shocked to discover that the postage for a single letter costs 17 marks, he was forced to use the post sparingly. In consideration of this, he explained to his wife, I’m not going to write very often.⁴³

Bergson led an exemplary private life, doting on a daughter who was born deaf and who became a gifted artist. Close friends described his marriage as one of uninterrupted happiness.⁴⁴ He was well-to-do, leading the quiet life of a comfortable university professor. He was, as one student put it, the picture of sobriety, who when confronted with a number of dishes that is called a banquet, preferred to eat a bun and a glass of milk.⁴⁵ "With a happy consistency in habitat and theory which few philosophers attain, he resides in Rue Vital, explained a contemporary.⁴⁶ While Bergson extolled the virtues of vegetarianism, Einstein longed for the delicious goose cracklings that his second wife sent him through the mail. For a number of years, Bergson lived in a bourgeois house on a beautiful boulevard (at Villa Montmorency, 18 avenue des Tilleuls, from 1902 to 1915), cultivating roses and taking care of two cats.⁴⁷ In contrast, the actor Charlie Chaplin, who visited Einstein’s home in Berlin, thought that one could find the same apartment in the Bronx.⁴⁸ Follow them inside their respective homes: Bergson’s apartment was decorated with some drawings of his deaf-mute daughter, who had talent and had taken lessons with Rodin. George Oprescu, an art historian who knew both of them, compared their different decorating styles: Einstein, in his modest quarters in Berlin, also did not have any art, but I remember the appreciative look he gave me when I offered him some lithographs by Daumier, which one could buy in Paris for a few francs."⁴⁹

As with infinitely nesting matryoshka dolls, differences between them were readily apparent from the most intimate to the most public of perspectives. Were the differences between Einstein and Bergson mainly cultural, personal, political, and ideological?⁵⁰ Psychological, intellectual, social, institutional, political, and national differences proved a most fertile ground for an expanding conflict. But the